A Corrupted Pre-War Paladin
by MadameEbonsoul
Summary: Katherine Russo, an ordinary girl in Peaksville, Washington D.C, and her family are recruited into Vault 87! But she isn't safe in the slightest. Being probed and prodded, she escapes the Vault after Mutants force her to leave. She loses everything, and is burdened by Vault-Tec Scientists for the rest of her life and leaving the Capital Wasteland proves to be very effective in help


Stirring little masses within green, vibrant trees awoke to the prickling sting of a crisp summer breeze. Slowly starting to chime and sing aimlessly into the infinitely open space around them, they provided a soothing melody to the cozy cul-de-sac they shared with a small plethora of two-story buildings.

Golden shimmering streams of sunlight slowly peaked over the horizon, granting those still asleep in their homes a warm, relaxing awakening. The cul-de-sac was a peaceful sanctuary, a long ways from any hussle and bustle city, yet not so detached from the rest of society to not have the latest and greatest. A well-aged gentleman fitted with gentle creases in his forehead along with etched-in laugh lines and sunken eyes, strolled casually under a few trees that hung over the sidewalk, littering them with fallen leaves. With sunlight now beginning to pour in, the man strolled the shadows of the leaves and rays of sunlight danced across his face until he cleared them.

The gentleman inhaled slowly, allowing the cool morning air to chill the core of his body in an attempt to steel his jittery nerves. He filled his lungs to its fullest capacity, allowing his chest to puff out and slowly descend as he exhaled. His dark brown eyes narrowed, his eyebrows furrowing as he started to methodically scan his surroundings for some sort of indication to where the person he was in desperate search for would be residing.

The man took in every detail and noted it. Approximately seven two-story houses forming a half-circle stood in front of him. He noticed some of the fusion power automobiles hummed aloud as their owners staggered out of their homes towards them.

His dark eyes slowly panned, watching as six men walked rushed out of their homes with their clothes hastily thrown on, their suitcases overflowing with paperwork, and the gentleman noticed that a few of them weren't wearing their shoes. The gentleman smiled hollowly as each man bumbled into their automobiles, tossing their suitcases onto the passenger seat and slamming their car doors shut, just as a couple of their wives slowly strolled out of their homes. He noticed two of the men had wives and they waited for them to appear in their side windows for a farewell kiss, while the others were pulling out onto the concrete road and speeding off to their work- wherever it may be. The man chuckled, noting that it all seemed so scripted. So planned and artificial.

As the last two men waved farewell to their spouses and took off, the gentleman's smiled faded into a sorrowful frown. His head tilted ever so slightly downward and he gripped the worn out fedora he adorned, removing it from atop of his head and pressing it against his breast. He sighed heavily as old memories began to flash through his mind like an old film. He started to recall instances had had with his late wife, with each memory of love he uncovered and dusted off, the old wounds he harbored and hid from the world were slowly being ripped open.

His bony fingers clutched his hat and his eyes clenched tight as tears pricked and prodded from behind their glass prison, begging to be setfree. He grimaced and forcefully slammed his hat upon his head as he roped and corralled his feelings back into control. Groaning, he raised his head, his eyes fluttering to catch any tears that tried escaping. To his surprise, he noticed that he was alone and in this moment of realization, he truly felt like an outcast. Not just in this small community he was in, but in all of society as well.

As a representative for Vault-Tec, it was his duty to recruit a certain list of people to be placed in an underground Vault for safety. Some radicals were strongly against the purpose of placing a specific group of people in an underground metallic tomb, as the radicals called it. Therefore, representatives were usually treated as well as telemarketers, which was extremely disrespectful. Usually, when the gentleman felt out of place, lost or on the verge of giving up, he found himself thinking of the love of his life to give him the hope and strength he needed. He relished in her physical comfort that he would receive from her and the stimulating conversations they would have, to the point where she became his life. All he wanted to do was to keep her safe, to be placed in a Vault so when the nuclear apocalypse did happen... she would be safe from the new world. But he failed her, he wasn't able to obtain their spot in the Vault in official writing before her untimely passing.

A faint whooshing sound hummed through the air, entering through the gentleman's ears and pulling him back from the edge of hitting the cold, hard floors of depression he suffered from. He looked up sharply, to see a robotic helper make its way out of a dove white house, with multiple evergreen bushes surrounding the perimeter. The mans eyes lit up, his frown slowly molding into a grin, and his legs started to stride over to the mechanical butler. The man, in no time, quickly made his way around the bend, under some hanging tree, and found himself face to face with the first line of protection this house had to offer.

_The white picket fence._

Looking down at the latched gate, he felt a slight shiver of anticipation shoot through his spine, and spread into his body. His tongue glossed over his chapped lips while his eyes made a dart between the gate and the butler, who made himself busy by trimming the overgrown branches from the bushes. The robot hummed a tune that complimented the sounds of the birds in the trees surrounding his home as his appendages sliced effortlessly through some rouge branches. As the man stalled for time by clenching and un-clenching his fists, the robot slowly swiveled to relocate itself to a more unruly hedge.

The butler spun slowly, the sound of its rocket increased to allow it a more comfortable hovering altitude. His three optic eyestalks slowly panned around the front lawn, but stopped when he focused on the gentleman who waited patiently at the gate. A slight click of a nonexistent tongue was clearly audible from the butler as he swiftly changed his course from the hedge, to the gentleman.

"Good morning, sir! Lovely day, isn't it?" The robotic butler chimed respectfully as he stopped himself short of the gate, his rocket cooling down to a low hum. "How can I help you, sir? You seem rather..." The robots eyestalks shifted down, then trailed its way up the length of the gentleman painfully slow as he finished himself. "Lost." He finished.

The gentleman grinned, realizing his duty once again, and flamboyantly tipped his fedora. "Good morning!" He replied almost immediately. His pearly white teeth shone bright as he gripped a clipboard between his hands. "I _am_ just a tad bit lost." He admitted, feeling his cheeks lower as his grin did. He tilted his clipboard away from his and scanned down a list of names. All of the names he was given were already recruited, therefore, his list was full of crossed out names. Except for one name at the very bottom of his page which was added in by pencil only a few days prior. The name was circled countless times in red ink, as well as underlined excessively. He squinted, his crows feet visible, along with the creases in his forehead. "I'm looking for the Russo residence. Do you happen to know where they are?"

The robot made a series of whirrs and clicks, before a slow groan reverberated within it. Its eyestalks and mechanical arms drooped before perking back up into alertness. "I represent the Russo's, my good man. What business do you have with them, if I may inquire?" The robot tilted anxiously, awaiting the response of the unknown entrepreneur. In all of his programming, he did _not_ want any part of conversing with this gentleman. But he couldn't have let Mum or Sir, or even the children, speak with this stranger. It goes against his "live-to-serve" protocol programming.

The mans eyelids fluttered, his facial features relaxing. "Ah, good good. I have to speak with the head of the household. It's an urgent matter, you see. I've been trying for days to catch them at the right time, but they never seem to be home." The man added with a slight chuckle while lowering his clipboard down to stay even with his groin. The gentleman's pearly smile shone between chapped lips once more as he fidgeted slightly, rocking from side to side in place.

The robotic butler groaned, his optics zipped to focus on the gentleman's identity. The sound of its rocket jolting itself alive filled the air. The audible whoosh from it disrupted some of the small masses in the trees, causing them to soar out, off of their perches and away. A mechanical gripper the butler was in possession of nipped at the air between them, and rotated as he begrudgingly spun to face the front door to his homestead. Beckoning with his gripper, he hovered forward.

"Right you are, sir! If you'd kindly follow me, I'll fetch the missus. My name is Winston, my good man, and it is my upmost honor in making your acquaintance." The robot hovered over a short set of stairs and stuck fast in the open air on the wooden, dove-white patio. The gentleman speedily unlatched the gate, and swung it open over a small garden patch of beautiful, vibrant tulips. Taking his time, he cautiously pulled the gate closed, carefully making sure he didn't ruin any of the flora that they spent so long nurturing to a bloom. Once he latched it, he briskly walked towards Winston, making sure he didn't miss the opportunity to speak with the Russos.

One of Winstons three eyestalks surveyed the area behind him, watching as the man stepped up the stairs and stood patiently behind his metal body. The man rhythmically tapped his fingers against the side of his clipboard, awaiting with the patience of a Saint for Winston to unlock the door and fetch somebody- anybody at this point. Winston tilted in place as his gripper took ahold of the bronzed door handle and flawlessly swung the red ironbark door inward. Winstons eyestalks panned the length of the gentleman as his nonexistent tongue clicked in annoyance.

"Wait right here, sir. I'll fetch the missus from her relaxation daze... wherever she may be." Winstons polite and respective tone shifted into somewhat of a snap or sharp retort. The gentleman grinned and bobbed his head in response, his feet tapped and stuck in place as he waited on the porch.

An artificial sigh echoed throughout Winstons metal body as he increased the intensity of his rocket to hover deftly into the household. He inched himself into the center of the foyer, where his three eye-stalks searched in different components of the home. One eye-stalk looked up the length of the staircase, his optics focusing and un-focusing as he tried to determine if the missus was up hiding at the top of the steps. When he determined that nothing was, in fact, hiding within the slowly brightening darkness that enveloped the top of the stairs, he used a second separate eye-stalk to gaze down a small corridor that expanded into the master kitchen. When no sign of the missus was found, he focused himself on his last eye-stalk. Extending it outward, he slowly panned and snapped focus on a figure leaning leisurely in a leather chair on the outskirts of a roaring fire.

The figure crossed its legs, prim and proper as it sighed contently as the fire crackled warmly against its skin, illuminating it in a comforting glow.

Winston perked up, his body tilting excitedly to the sides as he hovered into the den. He haunted behind the figures chair, his vocal tone turning sweet and respectful.

"Oh good, I've found you Mum. I hate to intrude on your precious time for relaxation before the rest of the family awakens, but I have an elderly gentleman waiting ever-so-patiently for an audience with you. What would you like to do, Mum?" Winstons metal body swayed with anticipation, awaiting his command from the missus.

An exasperated sigh escaped the freshly painted lips of the woman as she uncrossed her legs, whilst straightening her skirt. Her fingers danced restlessly over her polka-dotted fabric as she spun her upper body around to face Winston. Her neatly trimmed bob swayed softly around her, her blonde locks getting snagged against her lipstick matte. Her brown eyes were accentuated with coal black eyeliner, along with evenly caked on mascara. Her face, with every feature cloaked in makeup, gave her face the radiant glow of youth that was clearly fading her. As she carefully peeled her golden dyed hair off of her lips, she smiled gently.

"Did you happen to catch a name, Winston?" The woman inquired with a tilt of her head and a raise of her eyebrow. The mechanical butler drooped his metal appendages in response, his voice turning sorrowful.

"My apologies, Mum, I did not. Shall I return to question him?"

The woman groaned softly, her eyes circling as she gracefully stood from her seat. With a simple fluff of her skirt, she confidently strode around her chair, smile still prominent as she passed Winston. With a voice as soft as silk, she spoke loud enough for only Winston to hear as she paused briefly next to him. "Don't worry honey, we'll just handle this gentleman before anyone else wakes up."

Winston's mechanical arms perked up almost immediately, his metal shell tilting in anticipation. "Right you are, Mum." He said as he spun his body, his rocket increasing in both intensity, and volume, as he followed right quick after his Mum.

The woman hastily straightened her skirt, fluffed her blouse, and slicked her dyed locks down into a neatened bob. Each step she took earned a click from her heels against her hard oak floors. The woman rounded the corner, an overly warm smile was sewn into her mouth as she stripped towards the gentleman with her fingers clasped together over her legs as she walked.

The gentleman's eyes darted upwards, towards the new movement they caught, and his face relaxed almost instantaneously. His tongue glossed over his lips as he smiled a fake, practiced, Vault-Tec smile.

The man tipped his hat politely towards the woman, his crows feet becoming excessively etched into his face while his cheeks became creased from his smile. With a quick fan of his clipboard, he spoke over confidently," Good Morning, ma'am." He started, his feet fidgeting in anticipation. "Are you the, uh, head of the Russo household?"

The woman nodded briskly, her eyebrow raised inquisitively. "I'm one of them... How can I help you?" She sashayed herself underneath the door frame, her palms pressed gently between the doors hinges and its opposing side. The gentleman's smile reached his ears as his head nodded, his beaten tan fedora hat bobbing slightly with each shake.

"Yes you can ma'am, but not help me." His palm pushed out dramatically to idle in the open air between them. His face shifted from simple pleasantries to dark and ominous in the next moment. "But you can help yourselves-" His signature Vault-Tec demeanor returned, his palm receding to grasp his clipboard once more. "-you see ma'am, I am here to inform you on your families acceptance to Vault 87. Your daughter..."

The gentleman darted his eyes wildly downward towards a small group of penciled names. With his voice growing meek, he cautiously clutched the clipboard against his breast. "Katherine?" He croaked. The woman agreed and confirmed with an encouraging nod from her head. The gentleman relaxed himself slightly, his shoulders lowering as he exhaled slightly.

"Good, good. Yes, _Katherine_ was admitted into Vault 87 due to her talents in the musical field. Vault-Tec welcomes your daughter Katherine, along with the rest of her current family she is residential with. How many _are_ in her- your - family, ma'am?" The gentleman reached into the pocket of his trench coat and pulled out a pen. Clicking it open, he placed it against the surface of his clipboard, and waited for the woman to process his speech and question.

The woman's facial features strained for a split moment before her jaw hung agape, her eyes fluttering as she scoffed. "What do you mean that she's been "accepted"? How did Vault-Tec even know that she existed?" The woman inquired while her eyebrows furrowed.

"Vault-Tec informed me that Katherine was exceedingly talented in last weeks festival during the talent competition." The man smiled toothily. "Why, I was there scouting for potential candidates for the Vault! Your Vault, Vault 87, focuses on every type of musical field. Vault 87 was created to preserve any musical talent that deserves to survive, and your daughter ma'am made the cut. So, uh... How many are there in your family, ma'am?" He shakily tapped his pen against his clipboard erratically.

The woman scoffed softly as she combed her bangs back with her fingers. "Alright, alright. I guess I won't question about it anymore... considering we'll all be safe when, or if, any bombs fall."

"_Mum?_" Winston chimed in from behind the woman. The woman hummed in response as she craned her neck to the side to recognize the mechanical butler. Winston perked up, his own way of standing at full attention. "Should we not wait for Sir to awaken? Surely he could make sure the gentleman is true to his cause, with no hidden consequences?"

The woman raised an eyebrow. Winston did make a valid point, and she surely wouldn't want to make any mistake that would cost her her families life. She smiled, her painted red lips parting to show brilliantly white teeth.

"Good point, Winston. Would you mind waking the others then?" She asked sweetly. Winston's mechanical arms pushed outward, then shot back, simulating what a jellyfish does and turned abruptly towards the stairs.

"Not at all, mum! I'd be delighted to. Just a moment." Winston peeped happily as his rocket increased to allow him up the stairs. In a matter of moments, he had hovered up their staircase, and out of sight.

The woman turned her attention back to the gentleman. She noticed how the outside looked behind the elderly man. Everything was now glowing from the sun. She figured she would have to get breakfast ready as soon as her husband came to deal with the semantics of this whole ordeal. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, her eyes locked with the man, not in an intimidating way but instead it felt gentle and welcoming.

"Well, while my husband wakes up, I suppose I could tell you about my family. If you'd like." The man's face lit up as he nodded enthusiastically.

"Please do, please do." He coaxed happily. He felt giddy inside, absolutely excited that, not only at the fact that he caught the Russo's- and their information -at last, but now, with them agreeing to join the Vault, _his_ spot would be secured as well.

The woman curtsied politely. "As you know, I'm Katherine's mother, Nancy Russo. It's a pleasure..." Straightening her skirt, she inhaled deeply, puffing her chest out in the process. "I have a four year old song named Nathan, a husband who's name is Frederick, and, you obviously know about my daughter. She's seventeen now, turning eighteen in a few weeks."

The gentleman scribbled away, his tongue glossing over his lips in pleasure. His eyes blinked and scanned over his hand writing. His hand fixed his fedora upon his head, moving it from obstructing his field of vision from the woman. He clutched his clipboard against his chest, his head tilting upward, showing his Vault-Tec smile plastered on his face. He was about to take a step back, thank Mrs. Russo politely and take his leave, when he caught a pair of legs walking down the steps rather angrily.

Nancy spun around as the legs stomped down the stairs. A breathy 'ah' escaped her lips as her long delicate fingers intertwined and rested firmly against her inner thighs. "Good morning. Sleep well honey?"


End file.
